His battle
by FugitiveJuliana
Summary: A different take on Freak Nation. What if Alec got seriously injured ...


Title: His battle

Author: Juliana

Pairing: slight Max/Alec

Everything went wrong. From the moment he had left Jam Pony to deliver a package and he ran into Joshua and his buddies everything went downwards. When they tried to get out at the back the cops started shooting at them.

He felt a sting on his shoulder and he knew he was shot. The pain didn't come right away, the spot only felt warm and weird, but when they were back inside and out of the immediate danger and the adrenaline rush died down his arm started to hurt. Someone, he didn't really see or care who, dressed his wound while the others were walking agitated around the place. Things were definitely not going according to plan.

Max messed up when she sent Joshua to Jam Pony in broad daylight. How could she imagine he could save their asses without blowing their cover? He was a transgenic, not a magician.

She went past him now, making a face – "Been there, done that" – when she saw his wound.

He knew he wasn't going to die from the wound, but her dismissal hurt. He guessed to her it wouldn't really matter if he did die. Right now he was just a soldier in her army, expendable. In the time of peace he wasn't even that. Yeah, he was a jerk most of the time and he did cost her the cure for her virus. But all he'd been taught in his life was to survive, not to be nice and friendly and obliging. So he did just that – tried to survive. And she treated him like shit, like he was only good enough for her punch bag.

Even if he tried his best it still wasn't good enough for her.

He turned and walked away, he couldn't bear her not caring.

When they retreat upstairs White's men soon enter the building and the fight is messy. Things and people are flying around. He shakes someone off his back but the next second his luck deserts him. This time the shot is more forceful. His body is knocked back and he crashes against the wall. His training gets him to scan the adversary to see who shot him and who will finish the job. He sees no one aiming at him, the bullet seemed to have caught him in the cross-fire.

His legs become weak, he slides to the ground. This wound is more devastating. He can feel how its effect is spreading across his chest like a volcano erupting from his flesh. He feels a heat wave splash over his body. Then the pain really hits him. He can barely breathe. His hands are slippery from the blood he tries to stop from seeping out of him. He sees that's useless, his pullover is soaked already, there's a pool forming on the floor next to him. He tries to grab the gun he let go a minute ago, just so he can shoot any bastard that comes close enough.

He knows, deep down he knows this is it. Even his genetically enhanced body won't be able to get over this. He's toast.

"Max," he tries to yell but his voice only croaks. His mouth is dry, his tongue feels like sandpaper.

"Max," he tries again. He knows she can't help him, he just wants to see her face one last time. Just … see her.

A silhouette looms over him, throwing a shadow on his face. He lifts his eyes, his vision is getting blurry.

"Max?"

She crouches down, inspects his wound. Her look is stern. Why is she mad at him? he wonders. Even dying isn't enough?

"Hang on, Alec. We'll get through this."

He tries to shake his head no, but his muscles don't respond.

"I won't make it," he slurs.

"Of course you will, you're a transgenic. Plus, I'm pretty sure God won't let me get rid of you so easily."

He knows she's probably joking but her words are painful nonetheless.

"Max …" He wants to ask her to kiss him. "I love you."

She gapes at him, then scowls. "Cut the crap, Alec. You're not dying."

And then she's gone. He cranes his neck to see whether she's gone to get some help, but the fight is still in progress and he knows that's her priority. He's just a soldier, and he'll die like one. Strangely, he doesn't find any consolation in that. If she would've just …

He feels empty and light, like he doesn't have a body anymore. He doesn't feel the pain of the wound anymore. Everything seems strange. The fight moved to the next room, he sees a body lying to the left of him. There are only the dead in this room, he thinks. Or those left for dead. No one comes to help him.

Another shadow falls over him. He notices the sudden silence. He looks up and sees one of White's men. Aiming at him. Surprised, he realizes he doesn't care. Actually, he does. He wants to die. There's nothing left for him here. No one.

The guy stares at him and he'd beg him to shot him if he could get the words out but his tongue is stuck to his palate. Suddenly, he lowers the gun and runs for the door.

Alec's head sags to the side. He can't hear anything, all he sees is a green haze. And then he slides into unconsciousness.

They somehow managed to get Sam into TC. He only dropped in for a short time once a day because of the toxicity of the place. He checked on Alec, made sure that the impromptu ICU was offering him at least some comfort and the necessary medical attention. He was in a coma for two weeks. Max had found him unconscious when the battle quieted down. At first she thought he was dead and she panicked. But Logan had enough sense to make sure they got him out when they retreated in the stolen special op suits. They got Sam as soon as they reached TC.

When he saw Alec's body, Sam just shook his head. He was certain the transgenic wouldn't make it. He'd lost too much blood, the wound was too devastating for his body. But Alec survived the first night and the chances rose with every hour, but then the coma prolonged for days and Sam was again losing hope. The condition was stable but not very good. It seemed like Alec didn't want to wake up. Sam suspected that was his body's response to the severe trauma and that maybe when the wounds healed enough, his brain would wake up again.

Joshua kept coming to see him, asking whether Middle fella was awake yet. It hurt Sam every time he saw the dog-man's face drop when he told him Alec's condition was unchanged. Mole came by every few days, Cindy came to say goodbye before she had to leave, squeezing Alec's lifeless hand. Even Logan poked his head through the door and asked how he was doing.

Two weeks passed and nothing changed. Life at TC was still restless and chaotic, but things were slowly quieting down. Max walked towards the former lab where there was now the ICU. She stopped in front of the doors. She knew Sam was not there because she was the one who accompanied him every time he came to TC. It wasn't safe for him to walk around alone.

She pushed the door gingerly and walked into the room, making sure her steps were as quiet as possible.

She neared the bed, not really sure what to expect. Her eyes fell on the pale face, the lifeless form that looked surprisingly small under the covers. It was disquieting seeing Alec like this and she half expected him to open his eyes and make a smart-ass comment. Sam had told her about how Alec babbled about being left for dead when he first saw him. He had also begged her to come visit Alec and talk to him because that apparently helped in the cases of coma patients. She couldn't. Couldn't come to see him, couldn't talk to him. She knew she was responsible for his condition. Maybe she hadn't shot him, but she left him when he needed help.

She had thought he was just acting his usual overly-dramatic self when he said he wasn't going to make it. She hadn't believed him. And … there was that other thing. She didn't even want to name it in her head for fear of making it too real.

She turned and left the room like she had the devil on her heels.

Everything was quiet. He felt he was alone in the room. And unlike he'd seen it in the movies he didn't think he was in heaven. The stained walls and the cobwebs in the corners were a very clear hint to that. Just opening his eyes hurt. He felt thirsty as hell but he couldn't reach the table to his left and the glass of water on it. He noticed the improvised monitor, bleeping with his heartbeats. He dearly hoped that wasn't Logan's work. The thought of the other man made him feel sick. Like he didn't feel sick enough without that.

He began to inspect his condition. His hands shook as he lifted the covers. A reasonably clean shirt was half covering his chest. There was a bandage underneath it. He couldn't pinpoint exactly where the pain was radiating from. He remembered he was wounded to the left side of his chest, but somehow his heart hurt too. He tried to remember the rest of the battle and so he saw the man aiming at him, someone lying on the floor, he remembered the silence … and then he remembered Max's face, her stern eyes. His heart fell when he also remembered the words. God, he never could keep his mouth shut.

The headache was hammering in his skull and he hoped someone would come by and give him something for the pain. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep was heaven, this was hell.

First Mole appeared and the next time he woke up there was Sam and he wanted to ask him what he was doing there but he was pumped up with a drug that made his tongue feel like a big potato. Joshua seemed pleased when he opened his eyes and tried to grin at the dog-man.

The next three days passed in the same blur. People coming and leaving, murmuring, the constant bleeping of the monitor. He felt that something was missing, just didn't know what.

Then it suddenly occurred to him when she walked through that door. He could recognize her steps. He pretended he was asleep, he couldn't face her just yet. The drugs were blurring his mind too much. And it still hurt too much when he remembered how she left him lie there in a pool of his own blood.

"Alec?" she whispered. He tried opening his eyes, but it was just too damn hard.

"Guess you're asleep, then," she said disappointed. She stayed a while longer and then left.

He opened his eyes and sighed. The pain in his chest was back, only it was of the sort that couldn't be alleviated with the drugs.

"You're doing just fine, Alec," Sam smiled when the check up was over. "You're healing very well and fast and you should be out of bed in a few days. Remarkable recovery I must say. Although, with transgenics I suppose that's something normal."

Alec nodded. "So I'll make a full recovery?" He's been off the pain meds for two days. He could bear the slight pain, rather than having his mind all mushy.

"Absolutely. The bullet injured your lungs, but that's almost healed and your body is nicely replacing the lost blood. You'll function fully very soon."

"Thanks."

It felt good to be able to sit up without feeling the need to puke your guts out from the pain. Alec grinned.

"Although …"

Alec lifted his eyes to the doctor. "What?" Slight fear crawled into the question.

"You and Max seem to be avoiding each other," Sam said matter-of-factly.

"What are you talking about?"

"She told me you were asleep the two times she was here."

Alec shrugged and then cursed when the pain shot through his chest. "So? I'm injured, I'm allowed to sleep."

"Just seconds after I left here?" Sam raised an eyebrow at Alec.

"God knows what you pumped into my system. Most of the time I was high, anyway."

Sam stared at him and then slowly shook his head. "Have it your way then. But you could recover more quickly if you got that out of the way."

"There's nothing in the way of my recovery, I assure you," Alec offered him a saccharine smile.

"Suit yourself." Sam packed his bag, taking the lab coat off and stuffing it into it.

"I'll come to check up on you once more, just to make sure. But other than that, you'll be fine."

Alec nodded as a sign of his gratitude. He knew what the man was risking coming here through the barricades outside and into the toxic atmosphere in here.

Alec felt the atmosphere of the place was becoming toxic for him too. That afternoon Logan came to visit, telling him how he had gotten the idea to connect his heart monitor with the HQ so they could see any change in case no one was with him when he woke up.

Or died, Alec thought.

Thanking him was like swallowing shards of glass. It wasn't Logan's fault, it was no one's fault, still it hurt to watch his smug face.

He tentatively put his weight on his legs. It was ridiculous how weak he still felt. He was building up his strength with the food they brought him. He knew many were probably left with tasteless snacks so he could get the best food there was in TC.

He walked slowly around the room, still leaning on things to rest before his legs started to function fully. He searched for some clothes and he found his jeans, soiled with blood. They'd have to do for the time being. He buttoned up the shirt he had had on while lying in bed. There was his jacket there too and he tried to wash the stains of blood from it but wasn't very successful. He pulled it around his shoulders, wincing when his chest and arm hurt.

He made sure no one saw him sneak out, he ducked and ran, as fast as he could in his condition, till he reached the outer perimeter of TC. He saw the barricades there and cursed. He was completely out of the loop with the goings-on in the freak world these days. He didn't know whether the Ordinaries weren't keeping tabs on the sewer too so he didn't dare venture underground. He finally found a breach in the line of the national guard and police outside and he ran for it.

Breathless, he leaned onto a crumbling wall when he was certain he was outside their range. He was pretty certain no one saw him – not the enemy, not the transgenics. He had slipped a note in Joshua's pocket that morning just to make sure they wouldn't blame the Ordinaries when they realized he was gone and attack them. He'd miss dog-man, he kind of grew up on him over time and he was a devoted friend.

He sighed and then slowly walked on towards his former digs. On the side of the road there was parked a motorbike and his fingers itched. He would need a transport to get out of the city.

Despite his weariness he managed to act fast and steal the bike. When he reached his digs, he called a guy who knew a guy who could get him a pass to get out of town. It was risky, for all he knew his face could've been on TV after the battle, but he had to try. He had nothing to lose.

He grabbed a few things he thought he could use, a couple of shirts and jeans, he changed his clothes and took the stash of money from under the couch. He was ready in minutes, thinking he could shower once he was out of town.

He stopped on his way to pick up his pass, the deal almost ending badly when he refused at first to pay the demanded sum. He'd had quite enough of gun barrels pointed in his face for a life time, so he gave up the money, grabbed the pass and darted.

He thought the guards could hear his heartbeat when they stopped him at the check point, but everything went smoothly and in half an hour he was out of Seattle.

He stopped by the side of the road, turned to look at the Space Needle, the skyscape in the oncoming dusk.

"Have a nice life, Max," he muttered, scowling into the distance.

The engine revved up as he let his frustrations out and bolted forward into the unknown.

Two months have passed since the incident at Jam Pony. A month of his self imposed exile. He was in a town he couldn't even remember the name of, he had some schemes going that brought him enough money to survive. That's what his life had been diminished to. He was supposed to be a great soldier, far above the race of the Ordinaries and now he was moping around his motel room, trying as gently as possible to reject the advances of the landlady so she wouldn't kick him out for not wanting to go on a date with her. He was far from a dating mood. Even the promise of free sex couldn't get him out of his stupor. Life definitely wasn't going as he had planned. Everything was wrong, so very wrong. So irreparable.

No, this wasn't what he'd wanted, not even close. He'd left behind everything – everyone – that meant anything to him.

He missed Josh, he missed OC, thinking that he should contact her one of these days just to make sure she was doing alright. He missed Max.

He was too stubborn to let himself think about it so he turned on his TV, flipped through channels and after finding nothing of interest he turned it off again. How could things end up so messy and confusing? It's your own fault, a voice in his head said. You should've kept your mouth shut and you could still be at TC.

"I was dying, for chrissake," he mumbled angrily and then rolled his eyes when he realized he was talking with the voices in his head. He was screwed. Majorly.

It was an early evening, the sun slanting through the window, there was a silence in the air that made him restless, on edge.

A knock on the door. It took him by surprise, he hadn't heard any footsteps approaching. He neared the door and looked through the peep-hole. His head jerked back, he blinked and looked again. Max? Max!

What the hell was she doing here? And how the fuck did she find him? Shit! Did he mention he was screwed? Majorly?

He tiptoed back to the bed and gingerly sat down so it wouldn't squeak. He had no intention of opening the door.

Although he should've known that wouldn't stop Max. She had at least gotten more subtle over the years – instead of kicking the door down, she just picked the lock.

They were both stunned when they saw the other. Max stopped in the door, not sure whether it was safe to enter, Alec jumped up from the bed, instantly taking a defensive stance.

"I knocked …" she said.

"I heard." It sounded harsher than he intended.

"Why didn't you open the door then?" she furrowed her brow.

"Because I didn't want to see you?" he suggested mockingly.

Understanding colored her features. She hesitated for a second more, then she stepped in and closed the door behind her back.

"Oh, I see," Alec exclaimed. "When I ask you to stay you leave, and when I don't want to see you, you insist on staying." He pretended to think about it. "I'm sure there's some logic in there somewhere, I'm just too dumb to see it."

He turned his back on her. He knew it was a bad move but it just hurt too much to see her. She made him too vulnerable, in her presence he had always felt like he was naked, exposed.

"I see you've recovered fully," she commented dryly. He didn't answer.

"Joshua says hi."

"How is he?" Alec turned to her, her words getting his attention.

"Pissed at you for not telling him you were going to leave."

Alec just nodded. He had every right to be pissed at him. "Could you … tell him I'm sorry?"

He sounded sappy, he hated that. Max nodded and made a step forward. Alec instinctively moved away. What had happened to him? Was he suddenly afraid of her? Geez … Manticore hadn't programmed him that well after all.

"Alec …"

He raised his eyebrows at her. He sure as hell wasn't going to make things easy for her.

"Why did you come? And how did you find me?"

She looked at the floor before she answered. "Logan helped me track you down."

"Of course he did," Alec smiled dejectedly. "Good old Logan." He wanted to ask how things were between them now that she was exiled to TC, but he stopped himself in time. It would do him no good knowing.

"No need for the sarcasm."

"Oh, beg your pardon, didn't mean to insult your not-like-that boyfriend."

"I kinda preferred you when you were silent," she said, realizing too late what exactly the words meant.

"I bet. Too bad I didn't just kick the bucket, eh? You sure hoped for that when you left me for dead, didn't you." It was more a statement than a question.

"Alec … you're not being fair."

"Now, how do you manage to always make it my fault? I must say I almost admire you for that. It's quite a skill actually," he bit out.

"It isn't really, because most of the time it _is_ your fault," she answered angrily.

He was waiting for her first blow, he could see her fists rigid on her hips. It'd only take a minute or so before she hit him. But for this he was ready, he could always fight the physical blows.

"You keep telling yourself that. I guess you need to justify your actions. But I don't, so get the hell out of here." He saw red. His breath was coming in short gasps, partly because of the still painful wound, partly because of the rage he felt exploding inside. It wasn't enough that she hurt him, she now came to mock him, to humiliate him? He wouldn't give her that satisfaction. She would never again see a flicker of feelings in him, not Max. He'd rather die.

"Alec, stop that! Can't we talk like adults?" she said almost imploringly.

"Leave!" he pointed to the door. "You've never had problems with that before," he snapped cruelly at her.

Her face showed a shadow of hurt. She didn't know how to go about this. It was so much easier to yell or kick him, she'd never before had to apologize or beg for forgiveness. This was new territory, one she couldn't simply scan with her cat-like eyes and decide on a strategy.

"Please," she whispered.

Her downcast behavior calmed his anger a bit and he dropped his arm limply at his side.

"There's many things I'd want to say and I don't know where to start," she said quietly.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his feet far apart. He scowled at her as she was trying to form her next sentence. He knew he couldn't let her see the smallest trace of weakness or he was doomed. Once this was over he'd be able to get back to his life or what was left of it, he just needed to survive this confrontation. Then she'd be out of his life forever. The way that thought hurt disturbed him, he should feel relieved. Instead he just felt a burning pain in his gut, knowing that he had to let her go.

"I'm … I'm really sorry for what happened at Jam Pony," she offered and then waited for his response. There was none.

"I misjudged the situation, I didn't believe you it was as bad as you said it was."

"What _did_ you think? That I was pretending to get your sympathy?" he scoffed.

She slowly nodded. "Something like that."

"Jesus, Max! In the middle of a battle! You really think I'd mess around like that? I'm a screw-up, I know that, but if there's one thing I'm good at, it's being a soldier. That's what I was _made_ to do and I know how to be a good soldier. I'd never compromise …" He suddenly let his arms drop to his sides, thinking it was pointless to continue. It was not like she cared.

"I know. I'm sorry," she had the guts to look sheepish. "It was just …"

"Just what?" he yelled. "Just what, Max?"

"You said you loved me, for chrissake, Alec! How was I supposed to react!" she yelled back, inflamed by his reluctance to listen to her. "You confused me, you …"

"You could just send someone to help me if you couldn't look at me yourself. Blood was pouring out of me like a fucking creek and you scampered off cause I what … insulted you by admitting my love? I know better than anyone that I should've kept my mouth shut, believe me. But you left me to die there, Max. You have no idea what that …" He realized he didn't want to continue that sentence, it would make him too vulnerable to her.

"Oh, shut up, Alec! Pretending you're all hurt and broken! You brought this on yourself!" she yelled. She knew she shouldn't let him feel sorry for himself, she had to piss him off so they'd bring it all out in the open and deal with it. That was the only way.

"How dare you!" he growled and made a step towards her. He looked dangerous and unpredictable.

"You always behaved like a jerk to me. How was I supposed to expect an admission like that from you? I was shocked!"

She neared him just in case he might think she was afraid of him. Because she wasn't. Not really. She could handle Alec, she always could. A kick to the gut or lower and he'd be down. Just this time the problems wouldn't be solved by kicking him.

"Yeah, always a jerk, huh?" he said and his eyes darkened with hurt. His rigid posture relaxed, all the anger vanished in an instant. There was only a shell left, a hurting shell. This was so pointless, he thought.

"Could you please leave," he asked quietly and walked to the door to open it. But she reached it before him, she threw herself against the door, stopping him from opening it.

"Alec, stop. Just try and listen. Please," she begged. "Logan and I," she started breathlessly, "we finished things. We're over."

"Poor Logan, another broken heart," he said, but he couldn't muster enough energy for his sarcasm to be convincing enough.

"When you were in coma, I couldn't even come to visit you. I felt so bad. Sam told me what you'd said when he first got to you."

Alec furrowed his brow. He thought he had been unconscious at the time. He didn't remember anything past the guy aiming a gun at him.

"You kept repeating that I left you behind, that I left you there for dead."

Silence filled the motel room and they stared at each other in the uneasy standoff.

"I felt so guilty, I hated myself. I think … I think I had wanted to punish you for saying … those words, that's why I didn't look back when I left you there. Or maybe I was just trying to convince you – or me, I don't know – that your condition wasn't as bad as it seemed."

"In short, you have no idea why you did what you did," Alec said sadly. He walked away from her, towards the bed, and sat down. He propped his elbows on his knees, his head hung low between his shoulders. "Fair enough," he said.

Max wasn't sure she heard him right. "All I know is I was wrong. So very very wrong."

"Yeah. But I _am_ a jerk, so I guess, you're half forgiven." He had no idea why her explanation got to him so much. He guessed it was probably because Max admitted to not knowing what she was doing, to being confused and eventually to being wrong. She admitted to being vulnerable and only human. More or less. Maybe her telling him Logan was out of the picture was helping too.

"Will you be able to forgive me? Ever?" she asked in a quiet, hopeful voice. He looked at her.

"Yeah," he grumbled reluctantly. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"But mine almost cost you your life," she said with pain in her voice.

He shrugged. "It didn't. I have no idea, though, why that White's guy didn't shoot me." His attempt at a careless grin was lame and it went unregistered by her. His words got all her attention.

"What guy? Shoot you?"

"Yeah, I remember looking down the barrel of a gun, I remember wanting to ask him to pop me, but my mouth was so dry. And then he just turned and ran. Probably figured shooting me would be too quick and that I deserved to die a slow and horrific death. And I probably do." He shrugged again as Max neared him and sat on the bed next to him. Her hands were shaking when she realized just how close he really had been.

"You wanted him to shoot you?"

He looked at her sideways. "What else was there left for me?" he said simply.

She lowered her eyes. She had nothing to say to that. No matter how sorry she felt, she'd never feel sorry enough.

"I …" What was she trying to say? she wondered. There was a blank in her mind.

Her fingers sought out his and she slowly slipped her hand in his. He didn't swat her off. That was a good sign, right?

He looked at her, his eyes searching her face. Was she messing with him again? She seemed repentant and awkward, so he guessed she was being serious.

"Will you come back to TC?"

He felt it was too early so he hesitated with his reply.

"Come on, Josh misses you," she implored.

"Josh misses me?"

"Yeah, he told me so," she said lamely.

He smirked and her heart skipped a beat seeing his distinctive smirk again.

"I miss you," she whispered so he could barely hear her only inches away.

"I think I should give it a bit more time."

"Why? We need you there because as you said you're a soldier. A great one, and we have a war to win."

"That's all I am?" he asked, a bit unsure whether he really wanted to know the answer.

"No," she said, returning his gaze.

"Fine," he said finally, "I'll come after you. I just need to sort out a few things here."

"Your illegal business ventures again?" she asked sternly and he only grinned.

She couldn't blame him, he needed a way to support himself, besides they were stealing food and supplies for TC too. So she was no better than him. She had never been any better than him, she realized.

She kissed his lips and the touch was so unexpected and he so unprepared he didn't have time to respond. She pulled back and smiled, one of those genuine smiles that had so rarely been intended for him. But this one was and it meant the world to him.

She stood up. "Well, I'll be off, then. When can we expect you home?" All business-like again, he snickered, but it didn't escape him that she called TC home and she wanted him there with her.

"I suspect I could leave here tomorrow morning," he said, trying to be just as serious as her. She smiled again and then she was gone.

He fell onto the bed and sighed. He was going home.


End file.
